My Extreme Billionaire by Katie Evergreen

Author:Katie Evergreen [Evergreen, Katie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Billionaire Books Ltd
Published: 2019-02-01T05:00:00+00:00

* * *

Devlin felt terrible, but at the same time he didn’t really mind.

“Arm up,” said Darcy, and he obeyed her. She tugged at his wet, frozen outer shirt until it slid free, then she walked to the other side and worked the sleeve over his splint. The ache nearly knocked him out, but he grit his teeth until it came off. Darcy did the same with his other shirt, tossing it to the floor with a splat.

It was the second time she’d undressed him, and he could get used to it. It was weird, because ordinarily he hated any kind of help. He actually detested people doing things for him. He wasn’t really sure why, other than the fact that he hated being in debt to anyone, in any way. He didn’t like people to think he wasn’t capable of looking after himself, either. There was nothing worse than people looking down on him.

But that was Devlin the island speaking. That was Devlin the mountain.

It was different with Darcy. It was different because she was different. She didn’t look down on him, but she didn’t look up to him either. She looked at him as if they were on exactly the same level, as if they were equals, and he loved her for it. Nobody had looked at him like that in a long, long time, maybe even since he’d made his first million all those years ago.

He hadn’t realized it until now, but the fact that people had only seen him as Devlin Storm the billionaire was one of the reasons that he’d closed himself off from the world. If people didn’t see a real man, a genuine person with real feelings and emotions, then why should he be a real man? Better to be tough, to be emotionless, unfeeling, fake. That way they couldn’t see how much he was hurting.

And he had been hurting. He’d been hurting without even knowing it.

“Here,” said Darcy. She’d run back through to the lockers and found a towel, a big, fluffy white one, and she carefully patted him dry. She’d found a giant bath robe, too, which seemed ridiculous in a place like this. She began to unwrap the bandages around his arm. He winced, but she hushed him like he was a child, pulling the linen strips free, then the stick. She gasped, and he did too. His arm had turned an ugly shade of purple, the bruise so dark it didn’t look real. His arm was numb from the elbow down, and he knew that if he didn’t get it seen to soon then it might never heal.

“This one now,” she said, pulling the glove from his good hand. Well, what used to be his good hand. His fingertips were blue, and covered with scratches where he’d clung on to the side of the crevasse. He flexed them gently, wincing.

“It’s not so bad,” he said. “I don’t think anything has fallen off.”

“Not yet,” she said. “But if we don’t get you warm and dry then I can’t guarantee it will stay that way.

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